Sentimental Value
by Swordshade
Summary: Shepard explains why he prefers a particular suit of armor, and his motivation for winning the war. T for threatened violence, brief language and mild suggestive comments, just to be safe. One-shot.


Shepard and his team stood around the weapons bench in the Armax Arena locker room, running the final checks on their ams and armor before the match. To his left, Garrus checked the sights on his Vindicator before stowing it on his back and moving on to his Incisor. On his right, Tali had just finished reassembling her freshly cleaned Eviscerator. He gathered his own weapons, a Disciple and a Locust, placing them over the magnetic clamps of his suit and feeling them lock with a satisfying click. He was about to attach his Blood Dragon gauntlets when he felt a three-fingered hand grab his arm.

"David," began the voice he never tired of hearing, "there is something I've been meaning to ask you." Shepard turned to face Tali, meeting her eyes through the dark visor.

"Anything for you, Miss vas Normandy," the Spectre replied. Behind him he heard the sounds of the Turian gag reflex.

"Don't mind me," Garrus choked, obviously faking it. "Little too much sap is all." Shepard shook his head slightly but kept his focus on Tali, the roll of her glowing eyes just barely noticable, a gesture she'd picked up from him.

"You have a sizable collection of armor," the Quarian stated, electing to ignore their friend's bad acting, "but you hardly ever wear any suit but this one. Why is that?" she looked at the various silver and red plates, before playfully adding, " Not that I have a problem with my knight in shining armor, mind you."

This earned another cough from Garrus and a smile from Shepard, remembering when he had explained the design inspiration of the armor, even telling her a few old stories. _I bet their princesses never wielded shotguns, though, _he thought. His "damsel" had saved his ass at least as many times as he had hers, even if she didn't have the same tendency for dramatic entrances.

"At first it was because it didn't feel right wearing my old N7 gear when the Alliance thought I was still dead," he explained, "but I found out it has a few benefits. The shields are quite a bit better than alliance standard, especially after those tweaks we made after Haestrom. There's also a few VIs to help manage my drones and combat tech more efficiently and with more punch."

"Please, Shepard," Garrus interjected, tired of being ignored, "we both know that as long as it keeps you alive, the only thing she cares about is how fast it comes off." His mandibles quickly moved from high and tight to his face in a grin to wide and low with fear as Tali glared at him, slamming a heat sink into her shotgun. "Wasn't it designed for arenas like this?" His question was obviously a desperate attempt to keep the walls from receiving a fresh coat of blue paint.

Deciding the former vigilante had enough scars, Shepard spoke again. "Sort of. Urban Combat League has two teams of real people and nonlethal ammo, usually nothing is simulated. Getting shot still hurts, but as long as you're wearing armor you're not in any real danger. This is a heavily modified suit from my favorite team, the Edmonton Blood Dragons. Granted, they kind of had to be. I doubt my dad would've appreciated me betting against his home town."

"I thought you said you didn't like sports?" Tali asked. Garrus stopped holding his breath as her attention shifted, relief plain even on his alien face.

"Normal ones, sure but this was more like watching a battle every weekend, except no one had to go home in a casket. Instead, the joints lock after a few good hits to keep dead players from fighting." He had placed air quotes around "dead," knowing at least the Turians had picked up the meaning. "Not that was ever a problem for these guys," he tapped the emblem on his chest, "they almost never lost. I even got to meet them once, right before I enlisted. Apparently they remembered me after I turned hero, because when Cerberus brought me back, this suit was on the SR2, signed and everything."

He unfastened the chest piece and showed them the inside. There were about two dozen signatures, all surrounding the large, red words "WE believe you, Shepard, even if the Council won't. Kick those Reapers straight back to Hell!"

"I have to admit, they sound like some pretty cool humans," said Garrus.

"And nice as well," Tali added, refastening the clasps on her lover's chestplate and helping him with the gauntlets. "Maybe we can meet them when this is all over?"

Shepard shook his head as his features saddened. "Not likely. They were in Vancouver when the reapers hit it, playing against the Shadow Cats. There hasn't been any official word on either team, but I think we can guess what happened. It's the other reason I still wear this armor. A reminder of all the people who saw the truth, but died anyway because the galaxy's leaders refused to act."

Tali wrapped her arms around him, pulling him tight against her. "I'm so sorry, David."

"You don't need to be, Tali." the Spectre returned her embrace, pressing his forehead against her visor. "I need to remember. It's how we'll win this war. For them. For them, and for us," he concluded, touching the pocket where she kept the rock from Rannoch.

"If we're done being sentimental," Garrus interrupted, now standing by the elevator, "we have a fight to get to. I bet Zaeed a hundred Credits I could beat his headshot record, and I'd prefer not to lose by default."

Smiling, Shepard followed him to the simulator, helmet in one arm, the other linked with Tali's.

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><p><strong>While I am grateful that people liked this story enough to follow it, it was only ever meant to be a one-shot. If you do really enjoy my writing, I have do have the beginnings of a much larger story, Soul of the Machine, which you can find on my author page. Otherwise, I just wanted to make sure no one was waiting for chapters that won't come.<strong>

**-Swordshade**


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